


Happily Ever After

by sidnihoudini



Category: Good Charlotte
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-11
Updated: 2004-08-11
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But we met in the produce aisle. One away from the dairy, across the store from the bakery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily Ever After

We met in the produce aisle. We both reached for the oranges at the same time, and in-between giggles and light blushes, we managed to fall in love with each other. Didn’t matter I was two years older then you, and your parents still had no idea you were gay. Cause as soon as our hands touched, man. It was like everything in my body lit on fire, and then someone poured ice cold water on top of that. It’s a feeling I’ll never forget. But we met in the produce aisle. One away from the dairy, across the store from the bakery.

It took a week for me to get enough balls to ask you out. Okay, that’s a lie. It took three more accidental run-ins until I even got your number. Because you confused me. You made my heart feel something it’d never come across before, and I hadn’t been sure how to respond. But you were patient with me. Smiled and nodded and giggled at my lame jokes, rambling off little facts about yourself that I memorized and repeated to myself over and over. Your name was Joel. Your name was Joel, and you’d just moved here from Arizona. And you rather would’ve had apples, but they were all ugly and bruised, so you went to the oranges as an alternative.

I remember how I felt like I was floating the first time we kissed. Our second date, and I was just about to drop you off at your apartment. But before I could get away, you slid your hands to the back of my neck and pulled me down. Cause I’m a few inches taller then you are, without shoes on at least. We measured once, standing without socks or shoes, backs pressed together cause you wanted to be sure exactly how many inches separated us. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter, is that night changed the rest of my life. I kissed your cheek and smiled after that, whispering that I’d call you.

And for days, I debated on this subject. Should I call you now? In a few hours? In two days? Should I wait for you to call me? The ideas bumped around my brain for a day and a half, before I realized that I was being a dick, that you were probably waiting for me to phone anyways. So I did, I phoned you. And your Sister answered because she was in town that night. In-between the giggles and teasing, you’d managed to snatch the phone away from her, you told me you were blushing so bad right then. I remember I was smiling as you finally managed to get a hold of it long enough to say, hey.

It seems like everything snowballed from there.

Things were great. For years, four to be exact. We were so fucking in love, it was like I wasn’t the same person after we met. Or, that’s what my friends and family told me, anyway. I was happy. And God, so complete. You completely filled me up, emotionally and physically. And it used to blow me away every single time I’d look at your face, and I felt like crying because how could something be so perfect?

So of course, I fucked it up.

It scared me. I’ll be the first to admit. It progressed from laying in bed one night, imagining the future, to freaking out at the simplest things. You wanted to buy a couch? Together? The both of us? You wanted to share an apartment, too? Didn’t only married people do that? We weren’t getting married, at least as far as I was concerned. And I did what any scared guy would do.

I pulled back.

It started off as me staying home when you went to your cousin’s wedding. Told you I didn’t feel good. And it just kept forming this bigger lie, this massive ball of guilt in my stomach. Because there I was, scared of everything that could make my life complete but still so in love with you - and there you were, trying to get me to respond to something. Anything. You tried talking. You tried questioning. You tried yelling. You tried ignoring me. And then you tried giving up.

And I let you.

I let you give up, I let you believe the whole, “It’s not you, it’s me!” speech. I let you watch as we fell apart. Because I was terrified, completely terrified that mixing our cd’s and clothes together meant I was giving something bigger up. The biggest thing I’ve ever lost is you, Joel, and I still haven’t gotten over it. Not to this day. But like most of the population of America, we gave up. Broke up. Whatever.

We both spent the typical periods of time on our own, sobbing our hearts out. Or at least that’s what our mutual friends told me. The different between us, Joel, is that two years later, I’m still doing that. And I’m kicking myself in the ass, because how could I give that up? How could I give something so fucking amazing, something I’ll never see the rest of my life, up? So simply? For no reason other then I was scared. Scared, Joel. Scared of a feeling I’d never had before. Like the first time you ever go on a rollercoaster, you know that feeling? That was it, Joel. Only multiply it by thousands.

So when I got the marriage invitation in my mailbox, you can only imagine it’d come as a surprise. Don’t you know that unspoken rule about never inviting one of your exes? Fuck, never mind unspoken. Everybody knows you don’t do that.

You also don’t actually go to said ex’s wedding that you were invited to, but I did. I guess we both broke the rules then, huh?

He’s nice, I guess. I haven’t spoken with him yet. Can’t will myself to do it. Cause I want to yell at him, fucking scream these questions that he doesn’t know the answers to. Does he know what your favorite day of the year is? Used to be my birthday, cause you said it’s cake and presents, only you don’t get any older. Does he know how you like your coffee? Does he even know that you like to sleep on your side, head on my chest and arm around my waist? I bet he doesn’t, Joel. And I have nobody to blame for that but me.

I spoke to your parents though. Before the ceremony. They always liked me, your Mom used to smile and pinch my cheeks and embarrass us both at any opportunity she got. But tonight, your Mom just smiled. But she was frowning at the same time. Does that make any sense? I forced a little one back. Not much is making me smile nowadays, much less the thought of you getting married. I saw your Dad, and Sister too. Your Sister hugged me and she was kind of crying, I’m not sure what that was about though. Your Dad just patted my shoulder and didn’t say a word. I wouldn’t have known what to say either, if the man your son was still in love with showed up at his wedding. The man that’s still in love with your son, too.

But I’m sitting here now, and I never knew the words “I do” could hurt so much. Just to hear them, you know? It shoots right down my throat and wraps it’s fist around my stomach, and my lungs all at the same time. And I can’t breathe for a second, because now you’re smiling and he’s smiling and I’m not sure whether it’d be better for me to stay or leave. I deserve it, though. Could’ve been us, so fucking head over heels in love and kissing and in suits because even if I always referred to you as the girlfriend, neither of us would be the bride. I wonder who’s name we’d take.

And everyone is standing up as you guys go down the aisle, and you’re laughing and clutching onto his arm, so happy. You’re so fucking happy and I feel like the most horrible person on the face of the earth, but it hurts to see you like that. Because what about me? What about second chances? Whatever was left of a second chance just got stepped on, though. Because now you’re married. You’re not just looking for fresh apples, you’re not kissing some guy’s cheek. You’re married.

And when that word hits me in the gut, the impact feels like there’s a weight of about nine hundred bricks behind it. Cause we were together forever, you’ve been with him for two years. Two years, that’s nothing. That’s high school, that’s the first boyfriend you’ve ever had. Love is something we used to have, before I destroyed it all with one stupid fucking thought. How could I do that to us? How could I do that to you?

I can’t do anything about it, though. I can’t cry and scream and wail like a baby, because I brought this on myself.

But we were forever! We were supposed to be forever, this was supposed to be our fucking special day. And I’m sorry, I can’t get my mind to stop thinking about that, even though I’m standing here smiling like I’m actually happy inside. People can see through it though, people who know exactly who I am, at least. Cause I’m that guy, the guy your family aww-ed over at Christmas, when we were smiling and holding hands. When we told them how we met, but we couldn’t stop looking at each other the whole time. I wonder how you two met.

And I’m that guy. The one that’s getting sad and sorry smiles as we all file out to the reception. The douche that turned up alone at his ex-boyfriend’s wedding. I’m that guy that’s choking back the tears with a smile because it wouldn’t be right to let you see how much I’m hurting inside. I’ve already ruined your future once, I don’t need to do it again.

“Who are you?”

I turn around and an old woman is looking at me, and I don’t know who she is. Did you ever introduce me to her? I guess not, considering she doesn’t seem to know who I am either.

“I’m a friend of the… Groom’s.” My face wrinkles when I say that. She smiles and nods. “Joel.”

“I’m Bryan’s Grandmother.” She says, and her face is warm. Bryan, that’s it. I was trying to remember his name, not that I could forget. It’s splashed everywhere in here, and the only thing that I hate is how it’s right beside yours. Bryan and Joel. It’s not fucking Bryan, okay. It’s Benji.

“Nice to meet you.” I nod, reaching for a glass of wine as a waiter carrying a tray full of them walks by. I bring it to my lips straight away and take a few sips. I wonder if you told Bryan who I am. I mean, I know I wouldn’t. But you always found ways to surprise me, and I don’t think this would be any different.

Bryan’s Grandmother wanders off, and I’m left alone for a few moments until the whole room breaks out into cheers and applause. I’m halfway through my glass of wine when you guys come in, the two of you smiling and holding hands, and I bet you were kissing while you got changed from your suits into what you’re wearing now. I know if we were getting married, and we got a moment alone, I’d kiss you until the world ended. But maybe you like this guy cause he isn’t me. That’s a funny question, why do you like this guy, anyway?

I’m sorry. That was out of line. I think I’m just going to go.

I set my glass down on whatever table is nearest me, and look around for an exit. And there you fucking are, moving to sit down at the head table, and your smile fades as soon as you see me. Fucking drops right off your face. I bet you didn’t think I’d come, bet you’d think I would’ve played by the rules and stayed home. You didn’t, I didn’t either, and I guess that why we were so perfect. Because we’re virtually the same person. Same thoughts, same dislikes, same favorite movies, same love…

And you nod at me. You just nod, before his arm slides around your shoulders and you’re drug away from my view. And I feel like panicking. I want to scream and charge at your table, shake you by the waist and beg you to tell me that this is just a bad dream. That I’m not forcing smiles and I’m not watching you get married, and really we’re still in a relationship and we still go grocery shopping together and we still smile every time we pass the produce section even if we both agree that it’s really embarrassing.

But you don’t, cause you’re gone and I’m frozen. And I feel my smile starting to waver at the edges. I feel gravity pulling everything down at once and I want to collapse and I don’t know what else to do but feel helpless. Because I am helpless. You’re done Joel, you’re fucking done. Your ending is written, I’m barely past the third chapter. And how is that possible, how is it possible we’re not being written into the same words?

And I can’t just smile and turn away, I want to so bad, that’s all my brain is telling me to do, but my heart is screaming out, punching at my insides and trying to break it’s way out. Because my brain is the thing that fucked up before, I stopped to think and then I got scared. When did distance ever seem like an option? When did I think it’d be okay to let you go? Because now I haven’t only done that, I’ve lost you. You’re fucking done, pulled away in a sea of people I don’t know because I’m not your life anymore. He is. He is, even though you probably didn’t meet in such a perfect way we did, even though you two haven’t been together as long as we were, even though my heart is broken but I’m still smiling.

I’m still smiling.

“…And it’s a funny story, really.” The best man’s speech. The cheesiest, most contrived words ever spoken by anyone. But you’re sitting there, giggles bubbling over with his arm around your waist. And he’s kissing your temple, leaning in to whisper something in your ear every now and then. And you’re smiling. “…About how these two met, well let me tell you.” I can’t take this, I was wrong in thinking I could. I start toward the back of the room, sliding in-between people and slipping past chairs. “Joel here was actually the one who fell for Bryan. Literally.” I close my eyes and the best man pauses as he waits for laughter and applause. “Cause, really. Joel. Who trips over their own feet and lands in the arms of a stranger? In the public library, none the less…”

My smile is breaking, cracking right down the middle as I push through a couple dressed in matching colors, and start jogging down the hallway of this massive fucking hotel you two rented out just for this. Had the ceremony outside, and isn’t that cute that it was right by the water, since he’s a boater and everything? That’s the difference between us, Joel. Me and Bryan. I wouldn’t have cared where we would’ve gotten married, we could’ve spent two million dollars on floral arrangements or twenty bucks in Vegas, with an Elvis impersonator doing the vows. I’d have you. And really, what is three hundred guests and matching platinum bands when you’ve got something like that? Something so irreplaceable?

But it doesn’t matter now. Cause this is done, it’s over. You’ve got your new husband, and I’ve still got my broken heart. Wonder if you guys did it the traditional way - something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I’d imagine so, but then again, it wasn’t exactly an ordinary wedding. Guess that he’d be your thing that’s new. Makes sense, right? And whatever little I’ve got left you can borrow, cause I’m old and I’m blue.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, and you remember when we used to just call up a taxi and tell the driver to go wherever he wanted? And that one time we ended up in the next state? God, I’m never going to get over you. Because I can’t forget you, you pop up in every second of every day, even when I’m at your wedding, watching you get hitched to some guy that’ll never compare to what I had with you. I wipe my eyes a little and dial the operator, and I need a taxi to anywhere but here. Anywhere but where you are.

“Can I get a taxi, please?” I whisper, voice cracking as I hear them toasting to ‘the new couple’ inside. You’re the new couple? That makes me want to curl up and die. And why can’t I just do that? Why can’t I just die outside cause that’s what I’m doing on the inside? Instead I’m smiling and walking away. “I’m at the Empress Hotel…”

I hang up and stare at the cement. It seemed like such a good idea to leave the first time. So why does it hurt so much more now? I don’t even need to ask that. You and I both know because now, I can’t come back. When I walk away this time, that’s it. You’ve got your life and I’ve got mine. You guys will have your story to tell to people who ask, about the day you met. When you were in the library and you tripped, falling right into his arms. That’s what I got from that cheesy speech, at least. And I’ll have my story. The single story with the only ending that I know, the one where this couple that are completely perfect for each other meet in a grocery store aisle. I know that story has a sad ending, though. Because I’m closing the last chapter right now, I’m waiting for my “The End.”

And while you’re in the middle of your wedding reception laughing and dancing; not thinking about me, I’m getting into a taxi with only the thought of you inside of my head.


End file.
